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2012-08-04 Unscheduled Doctor Visit
Saturday morning at the clinic. Technically, it isn't supposed to be open, and officially it isn't. The lobby is vacant of both patrons and staff, lending an odd calm to a place usually so busy. Almost noon, and it's as calm and quiet as a church. Prabhakar, kknown locally as Doctor Prabha (as, really, hardly anyone can pronounce his last name) exits from the double doors that lead to the examination rooms and such, hand on a young man's shoulder. The teen is an obvious mutant, bright green skin and black orbs for eyes--and not much else. No weather control, no talking to animals, nothing. He's one of those who got the short end of the mutant stick. "Now, remember what I have told you," he says as they walk toward the front door. "Because you breath slightly less oxygen than most, you need to be careful when you exert yourself. The extra oxygen will only continue to make you dizzy." The young man nods, embarrassed as he usually is. There's a reason he comes when no one else is around. Prabhakar unlocks the front door and opens it for the youth, saying, "If you need me, you know the number." That makes the youth smile as he departs, giving the older man a wave. Standing outside the doors is a pale woman with long red hair and three large gashes in her side. She's shifted into her demonic form which means her eyes are all red, her horns are waving back her head and her fangs are showing. Despite the fact that she must be in pain and she's losing a decent amount of blood, she isn't showing it. She steps aside as the door opens and another exits. "Afternoon." When Prabhakar sees her standing there, his eyes lift in surprise--not for her looks, of course. Aside from the lack of hypocrisy on his part, he can't tell as much real detail. The horns, sure, but that's about it. The surprise is from her waiting there. The young man hurries off, though does at least give the woman a polite smile. He's--very introverted, that much is clear. "Ah, hello," says Prabhakar, stepping back while holding the door open to allow the woman to enter. "I would ask what I can do for you, but I believe that is--obvious, yes?" A smile, there, a reassuring one. A bit of humor to hopefully keep the mod light. Doctors with a sense of humor do seem to be received better, and that's rather important to patient care. There's a smirk from Satana. "I would think so." She slowly makes her way in past the doctor and through the doors. "I could explain it if you really need me to though." She tosses him a wink and then steps aside once she's inside so he can lead the way to wherever it is she'll need to be. "My apologies for just showing up. I was led to believe this would be the place to go if I needed it done off the record." The doctor gives her a smile as he closes the door behind her and locks it. It's a simple thumb-latch; he'll save the full locking-up for later, assuming there's actually a moment when there /isn't/ a patient. "This way, please?" he says, gesturing toward the double doors. He'll open one for her, then lead her into the halls beyond. The nurses' station is empty, all the examination room doors are open. He'll lead her to the nearest one, saying, "It seems as if--some large animal has attacked you?" He motions to the small examination table/bed as he goes to the sink to wash his hands. "Demon." Satana explains as she follows him back the hall and into the room. Her fangs flash as she speaks. She takes a seat on the bed and smirks. "So you do this regularly then?" There's a slight wince as she twists wrong. "Damn. John's not going to be happy." A slow and deep breath is take which causes her to moan. "Why?" "If by 'this' you mean treat patients--mm--off the books, then yes," says Prabhakar as he dries his hands. "I find that there are too many people who cannot afford to--be known to be here, in many senses of the term." A smile given with a shrug of one shoulder, and he reaches into a drawer to pull a pair of gloves from a box. While he does so, he reaches out with his tail to grab a small rolling stool and pull it closer. Having an extra appendage is rather useful, even if ones like his wings tend to get in the way. Thankfully they're folded tightly against his back, but still. "Now, then, is there--anything special about this demon that attacked you?" he asks as he sits on the stool. "Does 'mean as fuck' count?" Satana arches a brow at the man across from her. "So... Mutant or demon?" It's only when she starts to relax a little that her own obvious extras disappear. All but the red eyes and even those revert to just the red glowing irises. "Kind of you, by the way. The world distinctly lacks people so caring. It's why my father is always as busy as he is." "I--must admit I am curious as to who your father must be, then," says Prabhakar as he leans closer to her side to inspect the wounds. Nothing too abnormal for the slashes; no pulsating suggesting fighting off poison, no sickly smell suggesting infection. So far, so good. "While mean as--that--may count for how much pain this doubtless causes," he says with a grin as he looks back up to her, "I merely wish to make sure that he was not--mm--venomous, or other such thing. A comparably 'normal'--and I do realize the humor in that term--attack, you will be right as rain very soon." There's a smirk from Satana. "Satan." She then gives a shake of her head. "No. It wasn't venomous or anything like that. Just very vicious. I'm lucky this is all the worse it is." She gives a small roll of her shoulders as a shrug which causes her to wince and groan a little. "So, I suppose it was an attack as normal as a demon attack can be." And here, she gives a little chuckle. That makes Prabhakar purse his lips and give a rather agreeable nod of his head, then he rolls over to the drawers to open them and start pulling out things. Cotton swabs, rubbing alcohol, so on and so forth. The usual wound-cleaning implements. "If I may ask such a medically-irrelevant thing--does it ever strike you as interesting, living in a world with gods and devils, mutants and mutates, people with so many--abilities and world views? I find it very--interesting, I must say." A grin, there, showing off his own fangs--comparably useless, especially when compared to hers. While all four incisors are long and sharp, they are /just/ teeth. Get in the way rather than help, they do. Though that's true for some of the rest of him, as well. He rolls back over with a few things in hand, the rubbing alcohol, the cotton swabs, and a few other such things. The other such things held in his tail. Having a prehensile tail is quite--handy. One can almost hear the snare drum. "It does some times. Of course... I happen to be dating my father's worst enemy and most desired soul so..." Satana's lips quirk into a half smirk as she watches him. "To see them all get along one moment and want to kill each other the next is... somewhat amusing to say the least." Against she rolls her shoulders into a shrug which, yet again, causes her to wince and his out through her teeth. As he comes near her with alcohol, those red eyes narrow. "That's... Not going to feel good... You wouldn't happen to have any whiskey or anything, would ya?" Yeah, she ain't big on pain. "No, I--do not," says Prabhakar, rather apologetically. "I do have Tylenol, but that won't help. I can say that it will be over soon, and I will endeavor to make it hurt as little as humanly possible." That's said with a smile, then he adds, "It will sting, I will not lie to you, but perhaps we can keep your mind off it with continued conversation, hmm?" And with that, he goes to dab some of the rubbing alcohol onto a cotton swab. No, it's not going to feel good, but yes, he'll make it hurt as little as possible. It's not like his college awards medical degrees to any yahoo, after all. He delicately wipes at the wounds, careful to not have to swipe an area twice. That just wouldn't do. "So tell me, madam, if you would," he says, pointedly not asking for her name; he's not going to make a "thing" of it, and she didn't come here, now, because she wanted to give it, "it must be very difficult to love a man who is so hated by your father. Believe it or not, while the setting may be different, the story--it is not so different." That's said with a lopsided grin, attention still focused on his work. Parts of India may still promote arranged marriages--but that doesn't mean every one is arranged. "Ah well. Can't blame a girl for trying." Satana nods her head. "Alright. We can give it a go then.." When he starts talking about dating someone her father hates, she chuckles. Her eyes close so she can concentrate on blocking out the pain. "I could care less about what father thinks. In truth, Johnny isn't his biggest fan either and neither am I so I guess it all works out." She gives a little shrug and hisses. One of these times she'll remember that it hurts to do that. Maybe. "I take it it's a been there, done that thing with you?" "Not for myself, personally, says Prabhakar as he works on the next of the gashes. As ever, he works methodically and efficiently, never having to swipe an area more than once. "A girl I knew, though..." A soft chuckle as he tends to her. He waits for her to get past a bit of pain when it comes up, so he's not just adding to it. "She wanted to marry a man her father did not want her to marry; he'd arranged a nice young man, an up-and-coming trader; she--wanted to marry a man without a job..." A cluck of his tongue, and he moves on to the third slash. "But he loved her more than the young man her father arranged could. He would have fought and died for her." Satana's head tilts off to one side curiously as she watches and listens to the story. "But not you?" A brow arches and she can't help but smirk. "A friend, hm?" Yeah, sounds suspicious to her but... hey... Everyone's entitled, right! "Personally, I don't think parents should have any say in it but ... hey ... whatever. To each their own, right?" He's done really well. She hasn't really felt much of anything aside from a little stinging. That makes Prabhakar grin again, and give a soft chuckle. "Just a friend. And remember, India existed in this fashion for thousands of years. We built an empire to rival, and surpass, anything in the West in terms of astrological knowledge, medical knowledge, and more." That they were also conquered--and yes, many still see it as /conquering/--was as much from numbers and superior weaponry. While one side sought knowledge of the world, the other sought knowledge of war. "Very true." Satana chuckles and then takes a slow and deep breath. "You take a great deal of pride in where you come from, don't you?" Her head tilts off to one side as she watches him. She doesn't have any such pride really. She isn't ashamed but she isn't proud either. "Must be an interesting feeling..." She also appears to be thinking on this a little. "I--suppose I do," says Prabhakar, smiling as he finishes cleaning the last slash. "I enjoy this country very much, but India is who reared me, who raised me. It was India who took me and showed me the skies." That's said as he leans back. The wounds are cleaned, so the rubbing alcohol gets set aside, the used cotton swabs tossed into the hazardous materials bin. He then plucks some Neosporin from the bundle held by his tail, and picks up another swab. "The wound is cleaned," he tells her, "and now I will apply some cream to encourage it to heal." And with that he leans in once more. "I was raised in hell since the day I was three..." Satana smirks a little. And relaxes back as she has the second round of attention paid to the gashes. "I don't remember my time on the surface. Or my mother. Johnny knew of her though and he's told me some." There's an almost sad and wistful tone to her voice when she speaks. "Mm. I am not sure I could live knowing so little of my birthright, my--heritage," says Prabhakar thoughtfully, applying some Neosporin to the top gash. As before, he's careful and methodical, so he doesn't have to irritate the wound anymore than necessary. On the other hand, it's Neosporin, so it should be nice and cooling, even to demonic physiology. "I am glad you are learning what you can of your mother." "I didn't really have a choice. Father had me trained from day one to take over his realm and some day rule in his stead. Knowing much of the surface or my mother wasn't part of the plan because I might have the urge to know more about. I might prefer my mother's world over his." She smirks. "And then he banished me to the surface as a punishment. I rather like it here and now he wants me back. I'm not to keen on the idea of going back hence...." She motions to the gashes and hehs. "He's determined. So am I." That makes Prabhakar pause, eyebrows lifting, and he considers the slashes again. That's--that's determination, alright, though he'd probably call it something else. "Your--father had this done?" he asks, understanding what she's saying but not quite able to bring himself to believe it. He shakes his head as he leans back into the work. "I must confess, I--do not understand. I am not sure I can understand such a thing." And he's almost sure he doesn't want to. To cause this level of--pain, it comes from a level of hate he's pretty sure he never wants to understand. "Father sent the demon after me. Likely with orders to bring me back no matter what. If I die, I return to his realm automatically." Again, Satana shrugs. "It's just the way my father is. My father is... There's no love. I am a commodity. An heir. A tool." She almost sounds sad about this. "I've never known any other way." "I am not sure I believe that," says Prabhakar as he sets to applying the ointment to the second slash. "If you have never known love, then you cannot know it with this John fellow, but you say you do, and I believe it, so..." A pause as he turns his head to look up at her, giving her a smile. Someone who does not know love, he thinks, isn't capable of it. Maybe it's just a belief in something better than the human animal that sometimes seems bent on nothing but its own destruction, but he likes to think love is too powerful for that. He's the second one who has questioned her relationship and how she and John feel about each other. "Do they need stitches?" Her tone is no longer warm and welcome and her eyes are glowing just a little brighter than they did before. She is not at all happy. "No, they are wide, but not deep," says Prabhakar as he puts the finishing touches on the last slash. "Assuming your physiology is similar enough to human average to have a similarly-functioning immune system et al., you should only require bandages, of which there are plenty." And that said, he's done, so he leans back to put the relevant items on the counter and trash. "Then I thank you for your time Doctor. I will do what I can for the clinic as soon as I am able." Without any further ado, she stands and starts to make her way towards the door. "And I appreciate what you do here..." With that, the door is opened and she starts through it. ((Fade Out)) Category:Logs Category:RPLogs